


a handful of moments

by ThinkingCAPSLOCK



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Falling In Love, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 02:55:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13137612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThinkingCAPSLOCK/pseuds/ThinkingCAPSLOCK
Summary: Siegfried comes home. Lancelot gets flustered.





	a handful of moments

**Author's Note:**

> granblue secret santa gift for [@alphrein](https://twitter.com/@alphrein), who both asked for lancelot and lance/sieg, so i wrote from lance's POV :) happy holidays!

Lancelot folds his arms over his chest as the last of the new recruits duck back into the castle grounds, heading for the dormitories. He watches them elbow each other, fool around, from his perch at the top of a nearby hill. They're a troublesome lot, but good at heart, kind and brave. With a few more years, they'll be able to hold their own protecting Feendrache, become a force King Carl can truly be proud of. Lancelot feels a soft smile form on his face as the sunset tinges the horizon red. 

Something's behind him. 

In a fluid motion, one of practice and strength, he whips around the same moment he draws his twin blades. The sunlight glints off them as they flash out, only to be stopped in place by a glistening great sword, as red as the sky behind them. Lancelot blinks, the sword one he knows well - almost as well as the person who wields it. 

"Siegfried?!" The word bubbles out of his throat. They lower their weapons at the same time. Siegfried stands before him, mighty and majestic. Though still clad in armor - Lancelot still has his on, too - his helmet is nowhere to be seen, his brown hair floating in the faint breeze. Lancelot tucks both his weapons at his sides. "I'm sorry for that - you surprised me."

"I should know better than to sneak up on the leader of the Order of the White Dragons," Siegfried replies. His face tugs into his signature smile: faint, but open, touching the corners of his eyes. Lancelot feels his heart thunder in his chest. He shifts on his feet. He hopes Siegfried can't hear it, and the man seems oblivious to the sound, sheathing his sword on his back. "I wanted to congratulate you on the new recruits. It seems like only yesterday you were a fledgling, determined to help your country. Now you've got kids of your own."

"They're not - I'm not - they're recruits, and I'm their commander, I-" Lancelot fumbles over his words, feeling his face get warm, hoping against hope he's not blushing. This isn't like him, to muck up his speech, to be anything less than the leader he knows he is - but being around Siegfried is different. His mentor, his former Captain. His friend. 

The man he's fallen for, over and over and over.

He clears his throat as Siegfried continues to smile, straightening his back and the cape on his shoulders. He can do this. "It's great to see you again. I'm sure the recruits will be excited to see you around the castle. They do nothing but gossip about your antics." 

"I'll do my best to live up to their expectations, then," Siegfried chuckles. "I'd certainly like to see who you approved of - though I'm sure you picked nothing but the best. You have a good eye for that." 

Lancelot feels his chest swell at the praise, a smile of his own spreading across his face. "Thank you, Siegfried." 

Siegfried nods, checking the sky and tapping his cheek with one finger. The habit is small, but Lancelot recognizes it by now - it means he's thinking something over. Lancelot gives him space, having no problem waiting for Siegfried to come to a conclusion before the conversation continues. 

"Have you eaten?" Siegfried finally asks. "I just arrived, and I could use a hot meal and a drink. We could catch up over dinner instead of out here, waiting for monsters to sneak up on us."

"I'd love that," Lancelot replies. Siegfried nods, gesturing towards the town, and Lancelot rushes to his side. The spring in his step and the heat in his cheeks is inescapable as they draw closer to each other, as their shadows stretch before them in the low light, as they walk together to the heart of the city.

-

It's the best dinner he's had all week.

There's nothing special about the tavern they enter: it's an old favourite, a small place just off the main streets with good food and good atmosphere. A band plays in the corner, the lamplight flickering but warm, the smell of spiced meats bubbling from the kitchen. It's cozy, almost at capacity, but the servers are friendly, the food cooked to perfection. 

Candlelight plays off Siegfried's features, and despite the new wrinkles, the leaves still caught in his hair, the dirt smudged across his face and caked under his nails, Lancelot finds him too handsome to ignore. It's distracting, distracting enough that at first he fumbles through his stories, forgetting his sentence mid-way through as Siegfried shifts on his chair or taps his fingers along to the beat of music. Each time, Siegfried reminds him of his place, of the thread of the story, of which recruit he was speaking to. He's gentle, yet determined, and a keen listener, hanging off every word, never once wavering.

That confidence, that respect flutters in Lancelot's chest, strengthening his words, his posture, until the two of them are chatting like old times, until the words flow so easily Lancelot wonders what he'd been so nervous about in the first place. He wonders how he'd managed to go so long without seeing Siegfried, how he'd managed to distract himself from one obvious fact.

He's missed Siegfried. 

So much had happened since they were together as knights - from when Siegfried was framed, when Lancelot was captured, when they needed to help Percival save his own kingdom. It had been so long - too long - since they'd gotten to enjoy each other's company, to discuss everything from politics to the Empire to their favourite skyfarer's antics. So long since they'd been together, to just _be_ without worry or fear. 

Lancelot treasures the feeling, the warmth in his heart. He lets his smile stay on his face the entire meal, and he wonders, between the laughter and the music and the night, if Siegfried is happy to see him, too.

When it comes time to pay, Siegfried refuses to allow Lancelot to cover it, going so far as to trap him in his chair with his massive broadsword as he takes the server aside to pay. Lancelot huffs, struggling to shift the heavy weapon off himself, unsure where Siegfried even managed to get the money from, considering how long he'd been in exile and his usual wandering habits. By the time he gets free, Siegfried's back, able to lift the weapon as if it weighs nothing at all. Lancelot opens his mouth to protest, to demand to pay his share, as is due for any member of the White Dragons, but Siegfried silences him with a wave to the door.

"Care for a walk?" he asks.

Of course Lancelot does. 

They walk through the city, as the lights of people's homes slowly flicker out, as the stars above burst to life. The moon is full and white, casting their shadows long and dark. They wander through alleys and roads, between the lives they work so hard to protect. Lancelot loves this city, this country. He loves being able to see it with Siegfried.

It's as they turn down the main road, heading back towards the castle, that Lancelot restarts their conversation with a clear of his throat. "So, Siegfried, how long do you think you'll be staying this time?"

"Hm? Perhaps a week, unlikely more than that. There's trouble brewing in the sky, trouble I'll need to address before it gets out of hand."

"Oh." That's not the answer Lancelot had been hoping for - even if Siegfried rarely stays longer than a week. He'd known, but hoped, only for the hope to be dashed away. He fiddles with his hands, brushing his hair behind his ears, then letting it fall back into place. 

"Is that a problem?" Siegfried's voice is light. Lancelot fixes his gaze firmly on the road, not wanting to risk glancing over and seeing the expression on Siegfried's face. 

"No, no problem," Lancelot says, keeping the waver and disappointment from his voice as best he can. There's still an edge to it, but he hopes Siegfried fails to notice. "It's only that, you know Vane will never be happy seeing you for such little time, and the recruits would love some instruction from their hero, and Percival might be coming next week. I'm sure he'll miss you."

A hand rests on his shoulder, and despite himself Lancelot looks over. Siegfried has moved closer, much closer, and the point of contact burns through the armor they both wear. Lancelot's eyes dart between the hand and Siegfried's face, every detail of it shining like the moon.

"And will you miss me while I'm gone, Lancelot?"

Siegfried's voice is a whisper, but the words are so heavy they fill the air. Lancelot wants to look away, pull away, refuse to answer. He hasn't prepared himself for this moment, for the quiet under the stars, for Siegfried's eyes, intense and searching. The longer he looks, the deeper he's drawn in, the more he remembers exactly why he's fallen in love.

"I always do," he replies. It isn't much - barely a mumble, barely a noise. He feels his cheeks flush, and this time there's no stopping or hiding it. But Siegfried catches it all the same, that gentle smile tugging broad across his face, his hand lifting from Lancelot's shoulder to cup the side of his face. 

Something passes between them: the familiarity that came over dinner, the knowledge of how long they've known each other, how long they've been able to read each other. How the space between them shrinks, and without the need for words, they both understand. When Siegfried closes the space between them, when his lips meet Lancelot's, all his nerves, all his fears melt, chased away by the moonlight and Siegfried's warm presence. 

They only have a week, perhaps less - a week of training and meetings and hard work. But if there's even one more evening like this, one more walk, one more kiss, Lancelot knows it'll be enough.


End file.
